


zippers, and other nontraditional paths to true love

by Tokine



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Dorks in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Zippers, and everyone thinks sycamore is a sex god, and that's actually hard to do irl, but he actually can't do the thing, well he's about to learn my friends, you know that thing where you unzip the zipper with the teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokine/pseuds/Tokine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teeth pant unzipping practice buddies AU</p>
<p>Because you know that only happens with a lot of practice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	zippers, and other nontraditional paths to true love

**Author's Note:**

> So you know that thing people do in fics where they unzip pants with their teeth? This is a skill that needs to be practiced, and especially since everyone likes to think of these two science dorks as sex gods I thought I'd show my interpretation of these two actually trying to be sexy and doing the thing.

"Lys..." Abort. Abort. Abort. Nothing ever good comes from Sycamore using his puppy dog eyes before even making a request. The other man's head is resting on his shoulder and his hands, once used to animate whatever story was being told, were now scrabbling into his sides. Coupled with the image of those black locks falling into his face and the angry huffs Sycamore puffed out to remove said strands (instead of tucking them behind his ear like a normal person), the aspiring researcher did look like an overgrown puppy. "Lys I have a super important request to ask of you. Super important!" He stressed, nodding to himself at the importance of said request was. Yes, this would require someone patient, someone talented, someone who strove to be the best and shared that passion with others. It also required someone who was okay with Sycamore's face near his crotch, but they'd cross that bridge when they got there. That potential someone in question was waiting patiently as ever, even going to the lengths of putting down his financial statements just so Sycamore could have his complete attention. Okay, Sycamore thought, it was now or never and never wasn't an option so it had to be now! "I need you to help me learn how to unzip zippers with my teeth." Lysandre stared. Lysandre stared some more. He then cocked his head to the side, which Sycamore thought made him look like a puppy, and he had to restrain his giggle because this was a matter of extreme delicacy and only the most artful maneuvering and oh he was laughing and by the look on Lysandre's face this was quickly going terrible. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my friend you just look so cute!" It's the last compliment, Sycamore knows, that keeps the other man here instead of bolting out the door in a huffy rage. The man is quite serious, and doesn't take kindly at all to being laughed at. It's a shame Sycamore scared that adorable expression off of Lysandre's face, because he'd really like to see it again. If he got what he wanted, he supposed he'd see some variant of it in the near future. With his future prize in mind, Sycamore tried to continue speaking, mentally rehashing all of his meticulously constructed arguments only to be interrupted by the words of the other man.

"You are my best friend Sycamore. But I cannot deny that you have some of the strangest thoughts in that head of yours." Sycamore is affixed with a certain look, the look that Lysandre gives him when he wants more information but is too prudent and proper to ask.

"Ah I was just thinking that I heard Diantha talk about how cool that for guys to be able to do that?" Actually, Diantha told him that Lysandre told her that it was really hot, but Lysandre didn't need to know that. "Oh, and I got so curious on how it was to work and when the jeans aren't appropriately attached to a surface it's very difficult to practice and I just think-" He's rambling. Lysandre knows this, Sycamore knows this, and as desperately as he wants to insert his foot into his mouth as the words keep spilling out and it's only the circles Lysandre is currently rubbing into the small of his neck that makes him calm down. It's a little too ironic that the one person that could get Sycamore's heart racing was also the expert at relaxing him. He must have been farther gone than he realized, because it takes until now for his breathing to be stabilized and normal again. Sycamore doesn't really realize that he's crawled into the other man's lap- straddled him really, he notices belatedly- and is begging him until Lysandre blushes and can't meet his eyes, and Sycamore's eyes follow the trail of sight downwards to see what he's refusing to look at.

"It's fine, I told you I'd help you out of you ever needed any help with experiments." Experiments! Bingo! This was just another experiment and thus there was a completely innocent reason for him wanting to do this. There's more than enough urgency in Lysandre's tone to convey just how uncomfortable he is, and Sycamore has the grace to reconsider this particular request one more time. He's really rather not if Lysandre didn't feel comfortable, and forcing himself upon someone would go strictly against his morals. He wants to brush this fingers against the other's forehead, wipe away the sheen of sweat collecting there and test the temperature to make sure he's not feverish. Lysandre never acted this flustered, not even to his strangest requests, and the peculiar shade of pink the other had taken on was quite becoming, but could also signal some kind of affliction. But would it make it worse if Sycamore touched him again? Besides, if Lysandre was this flustered from talking about the act, how would he react to the act itself? Sycamore's scientific mind was already scolding itself, this particular experiment contained far too many variables and there was no quantitative way to measure his research and he couldn't distinguish his hypothesis from his dreams, where Lysandre bucked so beautifully from below him and how far gone was he that a lack scientific integrity didn't turn him off? Sycamore fetches a glass of water for the blushing man because now he needs a minute, and his mind won't focus at all and this simply won't do.

"Excellent, my friend. You may pick a time and place, as you're doing me such a huge favor." Sycamore does his best to grin and pretend there was nothing sexually arousing about this situation and was doing this for science, gosh darn it all.

"Tomorrow after dinner would be fine.” Even after taking a large gulp of water, Lysandre still couldn’t meet his eyes. Well, they’d work on it, Sycamore supposed. It was pretty hard to have someone evaluate performance without visually confirming details, and Sycamore wanted Lysandre’s eyes solely focused on him.

 

“You’re ready, right?” Lysandre couldn’t decide if his subconscious wanted him to scream no or yes. On the upside, he’d have a very dedicated Sycamore about a centimeter away from his crotch, which was the stuff of (wet) dreams. On the other hand, he’d have a very dedicated Sycamore about a centimeter away from his crotch, which was the stuff of (wet) dreams. He’d enjoy it, but he was worried about just how much so. Was this a weird thing to be turned on by? Would Sycamore even notice it? He was known for being particularly clueless, and unobservant of his surroundings besides. Would he even notice something that was both metaphorically and physically right under his nose? Did Lysandre want him to notice? It was already disconcerting enough that there was dissonance in Lysandre’s thoughts. He prided himself on dispelling the majority of that. Somehow, some of Sycamore’s natural chaos was spilled into his life. But it was just another reminder of Sycamore’s presence (not that he needed another, regardless) that made him pleased inside to remember, and oh, he should probably answer the question now. 

“I assume my only responsibility is to sit here and rate your performance, so yes, whenever you are.” Why, oh why, had Lysandre allowed him to do this? Why did Sycamore feel so comfortable with him? That clearly meant his feelings were unreciprocated. Meanwhile, Sycamore’s own internal doubts tallied up. Lysandre’s indifference was blowing his confidence, and this plan was ridiculous to start with. When did a conversation of feelings ever start with crotch nuzzling? 

“Alright, then let’s begin!” At least Sycamore sounded confident. That was leagues away from how he actually felt right now. 

 

"This isn't what it looks like." Diantha sighed as she heard the famous last words. Sycamore, she could understand, because he was still thoroughly entrenched in the idea that Lysandre would never love him despite the fact he most clearly did, but this situation was a new low for Lysandre. For some reason, she thought he had more self control. 

"It looks like you're unzipping his zipper with your teeth, Augustine. Care to explain where I'm wrong?"

"Oh yeah I mean that part is right but I swear that's all we're doing." He made a point to zip Lysandre's pants back up to prove his point, not daring to look at what felt like an erect penis right below that infuriating layer of denim. No sir, this was a scientific experiment nothing to see here because he was doing this for science. Diantha arches her eyebrow as if she can see Sycamore's thought process (she probably can. Sycamore's been told he's a rather distractible thinker, but really his thoughts are quite easy to follow if they understand the way he thinks.) and then sighs as she decides to leave. She'll never understand her two best friends and their weird dance of courtship they do where they make clearly romantic moves while denying to themselves there is any attraction at all while doing so.

“I hope you’re enjoying this Lysandre, because he’s practicing so he can do this on you. I may have spilled your little secret. It’s alright though, I kept the one about the lingerie!” Sycamore’s eyes lit up as Lysandre’s darkened. It was quite the juxtaposition, and she tried (failed) to keep the cackling to a minimum. “I'll be back in half an hour unless I hear sounds of fornication, in which case I’ll be back sooner." Clearly their relationship wasn’t going to progress, so a small shove in the correct direction was needed, and thankfully they had befriended the right diva for this job. After all, she’d sat around watching them waste time doubting the other’s feelings, and she’s getting rather antsy to say 'I told you so'. Still, the back of her mind (the one that she constantly shushed and was rewarded for doing so, because in her industry there was no need for second guessing oneself) she wondered if she’d done the right thing in meddling. It was too late now though, and she’d just have to come back at the appointed time to confirm she hadn’t completely destroyed her friendship with the two most important men in her life.

The room was quiet.

"Is this your idea of a date? You could've at least asked me out to dinner first." Lysandre seemed more offended with the labeling of the act as opposed to the deed itself, which did little to soothe Sycamore’s nerves. What if this was Lysandre preparing to go off on him? They couldn’t exactly go back to before. Luckily, Sycamore dealt well with high pressure situations.

“Alas, but it is after dinner. Your point is moot therefore this is an acceptable date. Although it isn’t. Definitely not a date!” Did Sycamore say he dealt well with high pressure situations? He absolutely did not. That a was a lie. This was incredibly stressful and he was absolutely showing it. 

“If all those admirers knew this was our university’s most eligible bachelor… I guess I’m glad you’re not as charming as they think you are. You would have been so neck deep in admirers you never would have realized that the man perfect for you was the one you always looked over.” Why wasn’t Lysandre yelling? What was going on? Did Sycamore ever know what was going on? No, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be informed. It just meant everyone was mean and decided to make him rely on his (admittedly weak) feeling deductive powers. 

“Excuse you, I’ve been in love with you for…” Lysandre’s smile quickly turns predatory, and Sycamore keens. “That is, I mean, if I was in love with you which I am not!”

“In love with me for exactly how long Augustine?” Hypnotized by what must be the most sensual purr he’s ever heard in his life, Sycamore didn’t even realized he’d been backed into a metaphorical and physical corner until the definite clink of his belt hitting the wall met his ears. It’s funny really, the words going through his mind have never plastered so thickly to his tongue before, and the air continually catching in his throat is making it quite difficult to speak. His stutters are cut off by a suggestion whispered into his ear. “You want to go through with this, right?”

 

“Oh my Arceus.” This couldn’t be. This absolutely was not happening. Diantha was hearing things because there was no actual way that the creak on the bed was coming from the room she had left half an hour ago. So soon? she asked herself, before checking her phone for affirmation of the time. Yes, it had been exactly thirty-two minutes since Lysandre and Sycamore had confessed their undying love for each other and they were already touching each other in inappropriate places. 

“No more Lysandre!” Sycamore’s voice was high and breathy, the laughter choking him of air as he was smacked with the pillow again. “Please, please,” Another choked out plea, and Diantha almost fainted. Inside, Lysandre snickered into the curve of Sycamore’s ear before letting out a very believable moan that had Sycamore giggling as well. Then they were back at combat again, bouncing on the bed and smacking each other with pillows. The real climax of their performance was when Lysandre quite literally swept Sycamore off his feet, his elbow clunking hard on the headboard. The grunts they’d both let out were more than open to interpretation, and interpret Diantha did. 

“You better grab some blankets, because I’m coming in now!” No. She was not going to let Sycamore’s innocence be stolen before she had a stern talk with Lysandre. This simply wasn’t going to happen. Diantha stormed in on the two men in bed, fully clothed and their giggles silenced by the look on her face, followed by ‘oh shit’ look passed between them. Their eyes met and their voices chorused in unison.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would have named this “The Pyroar and the professor tree think they’re slick but aren’t” but then I realized that name applies to every interaction between these two dorks.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
